A Thousand Miles
by jazziisms
Summary: Armin leaves for England after graduation and returns two years later. How much can really change in the span of seven hundred and thirty days? Historia knows. She's counted. Arukuri.


Surprise!

Hola, Arukuri fans! Guess who's here to bring you a brand new multichappie? That's right. Meee. I'm so excited for this. For a while, I've known that I wanted to write one for them, but where to start? Did I want to write something based off of canon or something else entirely?

I decided to go with a modern au, set around December (wink wonk). I've been inspired by natiwati and her Eremika fic Not Over Yet (which you guys should _so_ check out. Her writing is amaze. Love ya, Nat! Mwuah!)

Earlier in November or so, I made a tumblr post about how I wanted Armin and Historia to pull a Joe/Stella moment from Jonas L.A. at the airport and they confess their love. However, this story is _slightly_ different! I wanted them to start off as close friends forced apart through long distance and wicked curveballs life thrusts upon them before they're finally united two years later.

Enjoy!

* * *

She only knocks three times, lowering her hand to her torso. The petite blonde casts a lingering glance around as she waits, her ponytail gently swishing around. The cold, crisp air kisses her skin, and she wrinkles her nose. Maaaybe boots with heels wasn't her best idea tonight. She almost slipped on the thin sheets of ice that coated the stairs of the apartment complex. Twice!

Historia exhales and watches her breath swirl around in thin wisps. Oh dear, what if he isn't home? What if she's wasting her time? She should go. Just turn around, Historia. Turn around and don't look back and -

"Just a minute!"

 _Crap._

Her heart begins to pound, ready to burst through her ribs. He's here. _He's really here_. She didn't tell him she was coming. What if she is interrupting him? What if he's doing something important, more important than her silly little selfish desire to see him? What if...what if he had a _guest…?_

She tries not to think about the bad taste in her mouth at the very thought of him with another woman. That's the thing about him: he never flaunts his personal life. Ever since they met in junior high, he's always been a sweetheart to everyone he met. And, perhaps even slightly on the sick side. Always catching a cold. Easily the smallest - with the exception of their mutual friend, Connie - and weakest out of their entire class. He's like her own Steve Rogers, pre-serum, in the flesh.

"Historia?"

But he's gotten older. Taller. He doesn't have that bowl haircut she's been so used to seeing. All of that is snipped off. Instead, he keeps the sides short, but his bangs are still there; long and golden and framing his face perfectly. His eyes are a richer, darker blue than her sea colored ones, something she's always envied about him, framed by black glasses. And oh, his _smile_. _Thank God_ that hasn't changed. She continues to drink him in like a starving man drinking a long pitcher of iced cold water. The royal blue shirt he wears is fitted and brings out the beautiful blue of his eyes and, oh my, since when did he start wearing _sweatpants?_ Black is a very good color on him, she decides.

Their eyes meet again and, by the way his head immediately snaps back up, he must have been giving her a once-over too. What does he see, she wonders? What does Historia look like in his eyes? A desperate young woman trying too hard to not give herself away? A broken, tattered being trying to find her place in the world? A friend who's barely keeping it together and slowly peeling away at the seams?

 _"Armin,"_ she sighs his name and feels a giddy smile threatening to break free across her face.

His lips pull up on both corners, his handsome features brightening, and she fails immediately. That welcoming outstretch of his arms that follows is almost enough to make her burst into tears (of happiness? sadness? relief? all of the above?) and she flies into his arms without hesitation, dropping her purse in the progress. It's like time hasn't passed at all, like Armin _didn't_ move to England for two years, like Historia _didn't_ spend those seven hundred and thirty days missing him and crying over the what-could-have-been's, like Historia _didn't_ hate every minute, every _second_ they were apart. It wasn't the same. Historia Reiss' life wasn't the same without Armin Arlert. He was her friend in junior high, best friend and shoulder (and neck, and every other limb that comes in two's) in high school, and then after graduation, everything changed.

He gets an offer from an extreme prodigious school in England; a full scholarship. How amazing was that? There's _no way_ Historia was gonna keep him from succeeding and going far in life. That was a once-in-a-lifetime deal.

She remembers Armin struggling with making his decision, and asking her, Eren, and Mikasa about what he should do. Of course his two best friends since childhood were completely on board, urging him to go. But for some reason, he had pulled her to the side and asked for her opinion in private. Her throat began to feel tight, and she had to force herself to speak a clear and concise answer. _Yes. I think you should go. See the world, Armin! It's what you always wanted, right?_

She remembers his departure, and how Armin and Eren clung to each other like brothers. All smiles and soft laughter, and wishing him a good flight. Armin's hug with Mikasa was just as sweet. Soft words were exchanged, and they kissed each other on the cheeks and forehead. Historia had that tight feeling in her throat again when the three shared a warm group hug. She felt like watching them in such an intimate matter was rude. They shared a connection that Historia could never be a part of.

She remembers wrapping her arms around his torso and not wanting to let go, and they stood together gently swaying in the middle of the airport. The discomfort in her throat tightened, and she blinked repeatedly. No. She didn't want his last memory of her to be of her being a crybaby because she didn't want him to go.

She remembers the way he pulled back to look at her, the way he smiled down at her (and she smiled back), the way he murmured _I'm gonna miss you,_ and her soft reply of _Me too_. His lips made gentle, sweet contact against her temple, and she closed her eyes at his touch; small fingers digging into his elbows.

She remembers watching him leave, the cute little wave he gave as he went, and the feeble one she gave in return. The painful twist in her heart as he disappeared from sight. She did not break down until they got to the car.

And she remembers not leaving Mikasa's arms for the rest of the day.

 _"Hi,"_ he breathes happily, holding her close. He's moved a hand up to the back of her head, his other arm still around her snug and tight.

Her vision blurs with tears, and they stream silently down her cheeks. "Hi," she breathes back, and her breath hitches and her arms tighten around his neck. She doesn't wanna let go. It's too soon. Much too soon. She needs to stay in his arms for just a little longer - just to make sure he is _real._

Both arms drape back around her and the two blondes begin to gently sway from side to side, like they used to. He's warm, very warm compared to the harsh winter outside. She shivers, but it's not at all from the cold.

"Would you like to come in?" he asks her quietly, misinterpreting her shivering for the cold and rubbing her back.

Historia nods mutely against his shoulder.

"C'mon," he says warmly. Armin pulls away and smiles down at her, catching a stray tear with his thumb and laughs, and Historia could have sworn her heart melted. She's missed his laugh. So much. So, so much. He bends to grab her purse and gives it to her, to which she smiles in thanks and steps inside his apartment. His very warm apartment.

She almost bursts into loud, genuine laughter herself. _Of course_ his apartment is going to be neat and organized. There's not a single thing out of place. Everything is right where he wants it to be. Scattered around the coffee table, she notices, are papers, a thick binder that's propped open, and a pen laying against the surface. Must have been working on homework, she muses. Or something that's completely and totally Armin. The kitchen is spotless, the carpet has not a stain on it, and there are personal touches of the bookworm scattered around the main room. From where she stands, she sees a framed picture of him, Eren, and Mikasa at graduation; his parents next to that, smiling sweetly at the camera; and his grandfather on the other side, with his hat perched artfully alongside it, on top of the fireplace.

The sight makes her smile.

Then, her gaze drifts upwards, landing on the large, empty place above the photos.

"No TV?"

Armin chuckles from behind her, and she turns around to see his face. He's smiling at her. Ugh, that smile...that gorgeous, contagious smile…

"I don't watch TV that much." He mildly gestures towards her arms. "May I take your coat?"

"Always the gentleman." She giggles and turns around, unbuttoning the large buttons on her peacoat, letting it slide down her shoulders. He's closer now, hands on the expensive material, and she can feel his breath on her neck.

"I try my best," he says, and once her arms are bare she smooths her hands down her skirt before folding them across her chest. She wonders, who else knows he's back? Is she the last to know?

Armin neatly puts her coat up on the rack by the door and pads back over to her; the way he's looking at her is a direct reflection of what she's feeling. Is she really here right now? _Is this a dream? Am I about to wake up?_

"If I had known you were coming, I would've prepared myself." He feebly gestures at himself. "You know…"

"Oh, you're fine!" More than fine. "We've seen each other in our pajamas before...so…"

"Yeah…"

She chews on her bottom lip and hesitates.

"What is it?"

She blinks. "Huh?"

"You look like you're about to ask me something. I know, I - I remember that thing you used to do, like you're doing right now. You bite your bottom lip and play with your hands. It's one of your nervous habits."

Her gaze softens. "You remember?"

He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, and she could have sworn she saw his cheeks redden. "It's kinda hard to forget." Before she can think too deep into it, however, he grabs her hand and gently tugs her to the couch, where they sit down and he lets go _(too soon, much too soon)._ "I know you have a lot of questions for me, so, I'm all ears."

Historia inhales deeply. A lot is the understatement of the century, Armin! Of course she has a list of endless questions to ask! "Okay." But she remains calm, for the most part anyway. Her heart still isn't cooperating with her brain right now. "When did you get back?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise, but...I couldn't help myself. I had to see Eren...and Mikasa..." he reflects, gazing into the distance, smiling softly. "They didn't know when I was coming back. I immediately went to Eren's place. He stared at me for so long, I thought I broke him." He laughs. "We caught up, had a great time. He called Mikasa over and I sneaked up on her. She didn't know that I was there. But when she did, she didn't wanna let go of me."

 _And neither of them told me about this?_ Historia thinks.

"Anyway, I stayed with Eren until I could find my own place. Carla and my parents helped a lot. 'S how I ended up here. This will be the...third week, since I've moved in."

"It looks expensive."

"It is," Armin looks over at her and smiles. "But I'm managing it. If I owned a television, the bills would be gone through the roof!"

Despite being the bastard child and a disgrace to her entire family, with the exception of her older sister, Frieda, Historia always has a large wad of cash in her pocket. She doesn't know what it's like to struggle financially.

"Do you have any transportation, like...a car?" she queries.

Armin shakes his head. "Bike."

"You seriously have to carry your bike up and down the stairs every day?"

"Yes."

"And you work in the city?"

"Yes."

"Armin!"

"What?"

"That's a lot of work!"

"Well, not everything can be handed to all of us whenever we want it." Armin elbows her teasingly. "Some of us have to _work_ at it."

She shoulders him back. "So…"

"I really did want to see you," he adds, now sorrowful. "But...time got away from me, and I was so busy with settling in and the - the -"

"It's okay. I understand."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Good." Armin sighs in relief. "The last thing I wanted was for you to be mad at me. I even...thought you were...for a long time."

"Huh?"

"Ever since I moved to England, we've lost touch to the point where we stopped talking. A lot can happen in two years, Historia. I've changed, and I can tell you've changed too. We're two different people now. I don't know who you are. I don't know what you're up to these days. Even when we were apart and not speaking, I never stopped hoping that you were okay and well...and better without me."

Historia gazed at him sadly. "Armin...this pessimism...it's not you."

"It's not pessimism, Tori. It's...it's realism. What made us stop talking? What made us grow apart?"

"I never wanted us to."

"Me neither."

"Losing you was like...like losing a part of myself," she admits, staring down into her lap. "Things were simpler back then. You were my best friend, and I was yours, and the world was our oyster and that was it. That was enough."

"Then we grew up…"

"And we grew apart."

Armin nods mutely, and he continues to stare into space again. She hates this. As close as they are sitting beside each other, like old times, the bright spark between them was long gone. She wants her life back. She wants him back. Her Armin. Where has he gone?

She attempts to lighten the mood, poking his cheek. "When did you start wearing glasses?"

It works. He laughs again and his gaze settles on hers. "Within the first semester of university."

Holy crap. The way he pronounces his vowels is like...like... - did he pick up an accent while he was there? It's not thick or anything, but if you paid attention and listened closely enough there's a slight difference and - _holy crap - !_

"Are you nearsighted or farsighted?"

"Nearsighted. I only need them for seeing from far away."

"But you always sit in front of the class."

They both giggle.

"That hasn't changed, for a fact," he nods.

"What has, then?"

"Hm?"

"You said that we were two different people now. You're probably right, so," she shifts and angles her body towards him, holding her hand out. "Hi, my name is Historia Reiss."

His lips pull up crookedly and he takes her hand to shake. "Hello, Historia Reiss. My name is Armin Arlert. May I interest you in a cup of tea?"

She squeezes his hand warmly, wanting nothing more than to lace their fingers together and press her fingertips against his knuckles; instead, she resists, and lets out a breathless giggle.

"I'd like that."

* * *

Ahh they're so cute. Anyway, there will be more characters and ships as the story continues. I can tell I'm really going to love writing this for you all. I know this isn't the most popular ship in the world, but I love and treasure it to pieces and this ship deserves more love than it's getting. I can't help _but_ to write for my OTP!

If you liked it, please leave a review and tell me your thoughts!


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